


Brothers in Arms (1/5)

by totheletter



Series: Brothers In Arms [1]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M, San Francisco Giants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totheletter/pseuds/totheletter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's March, 2012. Buster's ankle has healed, and he had a good spring training. Opening Day is just days away. Posey's back where he belongs, and he's looking forward to a full season with the team, and with Madison. Things couldn't have gone any better. Which is why it shouldn't surprise him when things get incredibly worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers in Arms (1/5)

**Disclaimer:** In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate, yet equally important groups -- oh, wait. That's the opening narration to _Law and Order_. Here's the disclaimer: I made all this up, and the intent is not to harm, but to entertain. Also, Sam Waterston is my attorney.

  
\---

Buster Posey leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes. This, _this_ was what it was supposed to feel like. Madison Bumgarner’s lips and tongue cushioned Posey’s dick as he delivered what Posey had already decided was an unusually good blowjob. Must be the weather, he thought.

It was a pretty warm night, at least for the Outer Sunset in March. Buster and Madison participated in a preseason fan event at Golden Gate Park that afternoon. Buster didn’t know if it was the ebullient attention from the crowd, or the nice day, or what exactly, but he was turned on something fierce. And he wasn’t thinking clearly. As the sun descended and the park began to clear out, he thought about doing something he’d always wanted to do.

The PR team had already packed the Giants banners and signs away and gone back to the stadium, wishing Bumgarner and Posey a good night. Posey looked around, and saw no one. The park would be closing in a few minutes.

He grabbed Bumgarner’s wrist and led him to a secluded spot away from the sidewalk.

“You want to do what?” Bumgarner asked, astonished.

“I know it sounds crazy, it’s always been this fantasy of mine. Please. “

Madison looked uncertain. “This is a bad idea.”

“There’s no one around, Bum. I already checked. And they’re gonna lock the gates pretty soon, anyway. No one’s coming in.”

Madison rolled his eyes. “Let’s get it over with.”

Buster cocked an eyebrow. “You sweet-talker, you.”

In less than five minutes, he was close to orgasm. _Excellent_ , he thought. _We can be home in time for Frontline_.

Buster looked down. “You holdin’ up all right?”

He took Madison’s muffled groan in the affirmative.

Posey closed his eyes again and relied on his tactile senses for the experience. He was going to pay Madison back handsomely when they got home.

It was then he heard a rustling sound. It was close by. His eyes popped back open and he slung his head left, then right, searching the bushes. It was difficult to see anything, because it was nearly dark. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Then he saw it.

A red LED.

He opened his mouth to tell Madison to stop, but before he could came the flash and whirr of a photograph being taken. Madison saw the flash out of the corner of his eye. His heart skipped a beat. He immediately pulled off and stood up, wobbling slightly as the blood rushed from his head. His terrified eyes met Posey’s, both sets glowing white even in the growing dark. Without a word, Buster pulled up his shorts and the two ran back to the park’s entrance and scrambled to get into Posey’s car.

Madison pulled the door shut and sat back in his seat. His eyes bulged in sheer fright. “What happened?” he asked.

Posey’s hands shook as he tried to put the key in the ignition. “I don’t know.”

He finally got the key into position and cranked the car. He pulled out of the parking space and veered onto Lincoln Way, gunning the accelerator and swerving past other cars on the street.

Madison’s heart raced. “Did we just—I mean, did someone…someone took a picture of me giving you—“

Buster’s face was ghastly white. “Yeah. Yeah. I think—yeah.”

Madison dug his fingernails into the passenger-side armrest. “Jesus. Oh, my God. Please tell me that didn’t happen.”

Posey didn’t answer. His hands clenched the steering wheel as he cut away onto the Great Highway and headed south.

Bumgarner was falling into panic. “This isn’t real. There’s no way we could be that stupid. Buster, tell me we ain’t that stupid!”

Posey shook his head. “I’m afraid we’re exactly that stupid, Bum.”

“This is so bad. They’re gonna fire us.”

“They?”

“Sabean, Boch, whoever. They’re gonna fire us. And everyone’s gonna hate us. They don’t let fags play baseball!”

“Calm down.”

"WHY?" Bumgarner shouted. "For God’s sake, someone just took a picture of me sucking your dick! Shit, Buster, this is what ends careers! We fucked up, and we aren’t going to get a free pass."

Posey wanted to say something reassuring, but he realized Bumgarner was thinking exactly the same thing that flashed through his mind the moment they got in the car.

Buster pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed a button.

"What are you doing?" Madison asked.

"Calling Bochy."

Madison nearly rocketed out of his seat. "NO! What the fuck are you DOING?!"

Posey was having trouble keeping his own composure, and Madison’s terror wasn’t helping. “Because this is what you do! You remember what he told us when we got called up? He’s supposed to be the first call if we get in trouble.”

He put the phone to his ear and listened to the ringback. “They call him a player’s manager for a reason.”

Madison put his head in his hands and muttered, "I hope to God you’re right."

*****

Seven o’clock the next morning came bright and early. Not that Madison and Buster got any sleep. Looking disheveled and gaunt, they sat in uncomfortable plastic chairs in Bochy’s office. The manager was running late, leaving two of his players waiting awkwardly in a harshly-lit fluorescent room. The only sound came from the buzzing lights overhead. Posey looked over at Bumgarner several times, but the pitcher wouldn’t make eye contact with him. Buster could hardly blame him; it was his stupid idea that got them into…whatever this turned out to be.

Bochy burst into the room, startling Posey and Bumgarner. He stomped to his desk and threw a stack of papers onto its oak surface. He sat down in his chair and rocked back, staring at the two men before him. He did not look happy.

“I want to make sure I get this straight before I get slapped around by some reporter from the Chronicle,” he said. “After the signing yesterday, you two slipped off to some part of the park, and Bumgarner, you gave Posey here...uh, you know. You guys fooled around. And we’ll leave that part to ‘Things I Never Wanted to Know.’ Then, you think someone snapped your photo while…fooling around. Is that all?”

The players nodded.

“Could it have been something else?” Bochy said. “Lightning from one of those storms out over the ocean, or a traffic light changing or something?”

Posey’s shoulders sank. He knew Bochy was trying to think of some excuse – any excuse, really – to explain away all the fear and tension.

“No, sir,” Posey said. “It was a camera. Couldn’t have been anything else.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that.” Bochy rubbed his forehead with the heel of his left hand. “I didn’t get any sleep last night. And by the looks of it, neither did you two.”

He sighed. "I can't even begin to tell you what this means. Is this the first time this has happened?"

Posey looked confused. "Sir?"

"Is this the first time..."

"First time for what?"

"The...fooling around."

"No."

"I'm sorry, son. You gotta speak up."

Buster swallowed hard. "I said, 'No,' sir. Madison and I have been involved for...well, a long time now."

Bochy's jaw jutted out slightly. "Huh. Okay."

"Uh, sir -- Boch, is there any way--what I mean to say is, do you know how much of an effect..."

Bochy shook his head. "I wish I could tell you that. I'm pissed. I really am. I could throttle both of you where you sit. Now, I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with the idea of two of my star players getting together. I've never had to deal with anything like this in my career. But right now, my focus, _your_ focus, is keeping this from derailing the organization. We can handle the other stuff later."

Referring to a committed relationship as "the other stuff" made Buster slightly queasy, but he elected not to argue the point.

Someone knocked on Bochy’s door.

The manager sat up slightly. “Who is it?”

“Brian,” came the reply.

“Yeah, come on in.”

Sabean opened the door and walked past the downtrodden boys. He tossed a copy of the _Chronicle_ and the _Oakland Tribune_ onto Bochy’s desk and turned to address his players. “The only thing that’s keeping me from killing both of you is that the story isn’t in today’s papers. I didn’t see it on the news this morning. We may just live to see the end of the day. But do not, for one second, think this is over. Someone’s got that picture, and it’s not for their scrapbook. They’re going to use it to hurt you, or us, or this team.”

Bumgarner didn’t need any fuel added to the guilt fire. He exhaled sharply and lowered his head.

Sabean turned to Bochy. “Anything?”

Bochy shrugged. “Get the media people involved.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We have to. I’m not a media expert. Are you? We need to know what’s going to happen when this thing leaks.”

Sabean looked back at Posey and Bumgarner. “This is going to be a black eye for this franchise. That much, I can guarantee. Bruce, let’s meet with media relations at 8:30. And we need to figure out how to tell the team.”

Bumgarner sat up abruptly. “What?”

Sabean took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Madison, they’re going to wake up one morning and see a censored photo of you and our star catcher having oral sex. I’d rather the news come from us than channel 7. You have to tell them.”

"I’ll call an all-hands meeting after lunch," Bochy said. He looked up at Posey and Bumgarner. "You guys better go. But stay close by. I want you in that meeting with the PR guys."

Madison and Buster stood up and quietly walked out of the room. Walking down a hallway toward the elevators, Posey grabbed Bumgarner’s hand. "It’s going to be all right. We’ll be fi—"

Bumgarner jerked out of Posey’s grasp. "Shut up. Just shut up! It's your fault we're in this mess! Your stupid dick is going to end my life in baseball. I'm only 22, Buster. And this is going to be the end of my career. Because of you."

The elevator doors opened and Madison stepped inside. He didn’t wait for Buster. He pushed a button and the doors closed again.

The polished surface reflected the face of a shocked man. For the first time since the incident, Buster’s rationale drained away, leaving him with only the cold, hard truth.

"I’m fucked."


End file.
